


The Other Pocket

by misbegotten



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Torchwood
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-01-03
Packaged: 2018-01-07 07:29:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1117184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misbegotten/pseuds/misbegotten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three men walk into a bar...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Other Pocket

Clint was sitting in a really fancy hotel restaurant in New York City, wishing there were peanuts in a bowl on the bar. Piano music played lightly in the background. Clint played lightly with the end of his tie.

When a young man came over and sat beside him at the bar, Clint shot a glance his way and then turned most of his attention back to his beer. The man was carrying, probably a Glock. It slightly marred the lines of his suit. Phil had that problem too.

Clint stopped fiddling with his tie and glanced again at the man. This time, he met warm eyes and the twitch of a smile. Clint cleared his throat. "I was admiring your suit. My boyfriend likes suits."

"Mine likes threesomes," the man replied dryly.

Clint choked on a laugh. "I was just going to ask for the name of your tailor. We're, uh, exclusive."

The twitch turned into a full smile as the man spied something over Clint's shoulder. A familiar hand low on his back told him that it was Phil.

"Mr. Jones," Phil said, as the young man rose from his stool. "I'm glad to see that the rumors of your demise were exaggerated."

Jones offered Phil a handshake, and said quietly, "Likewise, Agent Coulson." He coughed lightly. "Tahiti. It's a magical place."

Phil chuckled and handed the man a SHIELD thumb drive. "This is eyes only. And give my regards to Jack."

"I will do so." Jones sketched a slight bow. "I better go or I'll miss my flight." He turned to Clint and reached into his jacket. Clint tensed slightly, but Jones merely fished a card out of an inner pocket and extended it to him. _Torchwood_ , it read, with an overseas phone number and a generic email address.

"If you want sartorial advice, just get in touch." 

Clint grinned as Jones retreated, and stuck the business card in his pocket. The _other_ pocket. 

Phil slid onto Jones' vacant stool, and laid his hand on the bar next to Clint's.

"So, now there's a Tahiti club?" Clint asked, rubbing the back of his neck with the other hand. He missed his quiver. And the _other_ pocket was throwing him off his game.

Phil merely smiled and ignored the question. "So we're exclusive?" he asked, instead. 

"Damn straight," Clint said, finishing his beer. "Come upstairs and I'll make it worth your while."

Phil threaded his fingers through Clint's. "I can't say no to that."

With any luck, the ring box burning a hole in Clint's pocket would make its appearance tonight.

And the honeymoon... well, it would be any place except Tahiti.


End file.
